


FFF #11 Bruised Sky

by FayWoods



Series: Flash Fiction Friday Prompts [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Violence, Violence description, gun violence description, police violence description
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayWoods/pseuds/FayWoods
Summary: Flash Fiction Friday Prompt#11 Bruised Sky
Series: Flash Fiction Friday Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954297
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	FFF #11 Bruised Sky

“Have you ever seen the sky, Errant?”

Prudence jumped down from an overturned factory robot, adjusting her gas mask after landing in the shallow water that covered the streets all around, even though there was no rain.

“Can’t say I have. Much too much smoke for that.”

Errant - himself closing the buttons on his jacket and pulling the patchwork-project he called a backpack up from the ground - grunted before answering and falling into step with his companion.

Prudence laughed - the sound weirdly distorted through the electric filters - and pulled a screwdriver out of their pocket to fiddle with the little mechanical heart they’d pulled out of the factory robot.

“What do you reckon it looks like though? What do you think a sunset looks like?”

Groaning, Errant rubbed the bridge of his nose, just above where the rubber of the gas mask stopped him from reaching. He looked up at the small patch of sky that could be seen from where the two were walking, though there was not much sky to see, thick black and grey smoke of burning metal, coal, plastic and just about anything else the factories could find to power their ovens, covering up the sky and even the tops of buildings.

“Maybe … maybe it looks like bruises.”

Prudence turned around to look at her companion, almost tripping backward over a pile of rubble, just about managing to catch a lamppost. 

“Huh?”

Errant laughed at his friend while she straightened up again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah. The old fortune teller told me a sunset paints the sky in red and purple. And apparently it’s blue the rest of the time. And those are the colors of bruises, no?”

Prudence grunted and picked the screwdriver and mechanical heart up from the ground where she’d dropped it when tripping.

“I mean … you’re right, i guess.”

\----------------------------------

Heavy boots hit the water-covered ground in quick succession. Errant ducked under a floating sign - it had an ad for a politician on it with its slogan calling for the “safety” of the city. It also had security cameras on it, pointing to all sides. 

The young delinquent slid around a corner, almost right into a police robot - much bigger, stronger, and more heavily armed than the factory robots he and Prudence had been scrapping for parts earlier that day.

_“Have you ever seen the sky, Errant?”_

Of course thinking back to Prudence made Errant want to cry again. She was dead. Fallen down from one of the walkways into the depths of the city, pushed down by a police officer. A police officer that was, by the propaganda posters that could be seen on walls just about anywhere in the city, made out to be a keeper of peace. Not that anyone ever believed it, of course. Why would they, when they saw what the police did each and every day.

_“Can’t say I have. Much too much smoke for that.”_

Errant scrambled to turn back around, jumping over a pile of debris - probably from construction, maybe fallen down from the high rising buildings that surrounded him - just quick enough for the bullets fired from the police robot not to hit him in the back. 

Panting, the sound distorted through the gasmask he was wearing, the black-clad figure quickly ran, using anything and everything he could as cover from the pursuing robot and police.

_“What do you reckon it looks like though? What do you think a sunset looks like?”_

Errant vaulted himself over the fronts of a police cruiser - one of the fancy new ones that could fly up even over the smoke cover. He continued running, ducking into an alleyway, climbing over a fence that may once have been electrocuted.

_“Maybe … maybe it looks like bruises.”_

Continuing to run, knowing that if he stopped, the machine that was meant to kill him - even if its sides were covered in the same propaganda that the house walls were - would get him, even if he couldn’t hear it anymore. Errant scrambled through empty streets and alleys until the high buildings that belonged to the wealthier, fell away to slums and huts made of metal scraps. 

People made way, pulling cooking pots out of the way so Errant could continue to run without too much obstruction. They knew what was coming and cleared themselves away from the road, not wanting to be found under the stomping metal feet of the police robots. 

_“Bruises?”_

Errant could feel blisters forming in his boots. He should have worn three pairs of socks, instead of two. But he pushed through the pain and clambered up over another overturned factory robot - a very old model, by the looks of it - jumping down behind it just early enough for the bullet hail coming from a drone up in the sky to hit the robot instead of Errant. 

They were truly determined to kill him, it seemed. Would probably make an example out of him. By all probability there were already dozens of the nice, high resolution drone cameras from TV News Stations on him, to air the footage of a fleeing criminal getting subdued by the police force.

_“Yeah. The old fortune teller told me a sunset paints the sky in red and purple. And apparently it’s blue the rest of the time. And those are the colors of bruises, no?”_

He leaned back against the body of the factory robot, looking up at the smoke-filled sky. The smoke stretched as far as he could see, and Errant felt tears falling down his eyes, running over the little exposed skin before hitting the edge of his gas mask. He smiled, wishing with all his might that Prudence’s death had been a painless one. Wishing with all his might that his own would be.

The sounds of the police robot coming closer was heard clearly. Apparently they wanted the robot in frame, and wouldn’t just kill him remotely with their drones. 

_“I mean … you’re right, i guess.”_

As Errant looked up at the sky, he let out a little gasp. The smoke was still there, but there was a patch of sky visible. A dark blue, with clouds painted purple. “I was right, Prudence,” he whispered, just as the police robot stepped around and aimed its heavy artillery at him. “A sunset bruises the sky.”

Errant laughed, the sound weirdly distorted by the electric filters, as a hail of bullet fire hit him in the chest.


End file.
